The Congresswoman from North Carolina
by the coffee monster
Summary: It begins with a pair of long legs draped over Sam's desk. Then it turns into what he somehow knew it always would all because of the need for an apartment and something from Ainsley's past. Post Bartlett Era, mature themes.
1. Could Have Fooled Me

_**Chapter One: Could Have Fooled Me.**_

Congressman Sam Seaborn from the California 47th was starring at his laptop screen valiantly trying to ignore the long legs that are draped over the side of his desk. He swallows and tries to block the enticing picture in his peripheral vision; long creamy legs stripped of their nylons hours ago, a pair of black heels that seem like the heel goes on forever and cherry red toes.

"Samuel." He winces at her use of his full name, she is really pissed now. "Samuel, you promised that we would get out of here an hour ago. Can you not hear my stomach growling? A girl can only hold out for so long."

He pauses, as if he's considering saying something. "Right." She raises an eyebrow. "Right. Sorry. Leave it to me to try and get between you and food." She laughs and shimmies off the edge of his desk. He holds out her coat and she slides into it gracefully, going to work on the buttons as he dons his coat.

They walk the few blocks to a favorite eatery and she positively bounces as they near the door. He smiles, that's his girl. The smile drops from his face. Ainsley is a U.S. Congresswoman, not a girl, and neither was she his.

"Oh, I can smell that grilled cheese with bacon, tomatoes, red unions and pesto calling my name!" She pulls him through the door in excitement and he grins at her enthusiasm. She waved to the bartender who tips his hat. Sam puts a hand around her waist, pretending to help her with her coat, glancing at the young man. Ainsley weaves her way through the noisy crowd headed towards the door and settles in against the bar. The young man saunters over, a crooked grin on his slightly stubbled face, his blond fringe escaping the brim of his hat.

"Congresswoman Ainsley from North Carolina." He smiles broadly at her, Sam notices the Carolina drawl. "How are ya darlin?

"I'll be better once I eat." The bartender throws back his head in a guffaw, and she says, "The usual, Jack."

He turns to Sam, the laugh lines lingering around his eyes. "Congressman Seaborn, you treatin' her right?" Jack seems to find the look on Sam's face entertaining. "The usual for you as well?"

"Yeah, thanks Jack." Sam sits the slightest bit closer to Ainsley. "Ains, have you found a place to live yet?"

She puts her fresca down and sheds her suit jacket, her brow furrowing. "No, and I'm tired of living in a hotel. What about you?"

He sighs and lets his fingers drift through the condensation on his glass. "Not yet. Maybe we should go tomorrow, seeing as its Saturday." He laughs slightly. "Its been two weeks since the session started." She looks at him over half the sandwich, he is taken with the shine of her big green eyes.

"I know it has." She swallows her mouthful of food. "We'll go tomorrow."

The rest of the meal passes in laughter and by the time Ainsley is on her second Scotch, Sam decides it's probably best that she stop. She glares at him when he suggests it, downs the rest of her tumbler, and slams her glass on the counter. Jack pours her another.

"Okaaaay..." She wobbles slightly as she stands. "You were right, I'm a total lightweight, I should have stopped at one." She holds onto the bar while Sam pays for their meal. He helps her into her coat and watches as she walks in her stilettos towards the door, amazed that she manages it. He scrambles into his coat and follows her. She isn't drunk, just tipsy and it shows in the rose of her cheeks.

"Ains, I don't think you should drive back to the your hotel." She gratefully takes his arm when he offers it, her gait a bit more playful than usual.

"You're right." She seems content to be on his arm.

They reach the parking garage and he helps her into his black lotus evora. She watches him as he rounds the car to the driver's side and settles in. She loves this car, it is downright sexy. Her thoughts begin to stray to the man behind the wheel as Sam navigates the D.C. streets. Her slight inebriation makes her notice the flex of his forearms as he drives, the length of his fingers, and the strong cut of his jaw. Forget the car, the driver was much better.

Ainsley mentally scolds herself for staring as they pull up to her hotel. "Thanks Sam. I'll see you tomorrow." She tosses a smile over her shoulder and disappears into the lobby. He blows out a long breath. His phone rings a few minutes later. The screen flashes 'Ainsley'. His brow furrows.

"Ains?" He can hear it as she restrains giggles.

"Sam," He can imagine her face as she clutches the phone. "I left my key in my car; I can't get into my room."

"What?!" He flips a U turn where he probably wasn't supposed to and heads back towards the hotel. "Tell me you're kidding."

"God, I wish I was." She dissolves into laughter. It's contagious.

"Ainsley, have you considered that all the fresca might be going to your head?" He knows she can hear the smile in his voice.

"SAM!" She continues to laugh. "I don't think the fresca is the problem. I think it's the Scotch."

"Right. I'll be there in just a minute." He is still smiling into the phone.

"Thanks." He hangs up the phone and shakes his head as he pulls up in front of the hotel. She comes out of the lobby and flops into the passenger seat, still giggling.

"You can stay with me tonight. I'll take the couch, it's big enough." Sam is watching her from the corner of his eye.

"Always the gentleman. Thanks for all the trouble Sam." She looks thoroughly embarrassed.

"It's never trouble, never is with you, Ainsley." His sweet smile makes her stomach do a funny sort of flip. She stares at her hands. "Here we are."

She looks up sharply as he pulls into the hotel's garage. He turns off the car and opens her door for her. She steps out and he puts a steadying arm at the curve of her back. She lets him guide her to an elevator where he inserts his keycard and the doors open. He pushes the button for the tenth floor and they wait. She stumbles as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors ding open to reveal clean hallways and dark wooden doors. His hand is back as they walk towards the end of the hall. He opens the second to last door with some difficulty and gestures for her to enter.

She steps into a spacious room with a sitting area and a kitchenette. She looks around in awe. "Sam, just how rich are you?" He looks slightly sheepish.

"Enough." He brushes past her. "I think there's an extra toothbrush here somewhere." She follows him into a decent sized bathroom. He leaves her there, sitting on the edge of the shower, returning a moment later with a large grey t-shirt, a packaged toothbrush, and a cupcake. She laughs.

"Really Sam, you are too much." He presents the sweet to her with a flourish.

"I'm never without them these days." He is referring to the cupcake. "You've created a monster, Ainsley." She laughs harder at the expression on his face.

"Thank you, Sam, I mean it." She sobers abruptly.

He rubs his neck and looks at something that wasn't her. "You're welcome. Its no problem... I'll leave you to change." He exits the room, closing the door softly behind him. Ainsley runs water into the tub, waiting for it to warm. She takes a bite of the cupcake, finding it delicious, before she begins to shed her clothes. She steps under the warm spray of the shower, feeling the knots in her neck begin to loosen.

When she steps out, she dries her hair, finishes the cup cake and dresses in the gray shirt he has given her. She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to work out some of the newly formed tangles. She pauses and breathes in a sigh. The shirt smells like Sam; the lightest traces of his subtle cologne, chocolate, sea salt, and something she can't quite place. The unplaceable smell is warm and familiar while being wholly masculine. She curls her fingers into the fabric and inhales again, feeling foolish as soon as she's done it. With her cheeks burning slightly, she wets the toothbrush to find there isn't any toothpaste.

Toothbrush clutched in hand, Ainsley goes to find Sam. She finds him in his room, pulling his shirt off over his head, plaid sleep pants hanging low on his hips. She's starring.

"Ainsley?" He looks over his shoulder at her, slowly turning to face the slightly stunned woman. She's wearing his shirt. It hangs down to about mid thigh on her, leaving the length of her legs bare. He feels a surge of possessiveness wash through him.

She pulls herself together quickly. "Toothpaste?" She makes sure to look only at his face.

He blinks. "What?"

"Sam, toothpaste." She waves the toothbrush.

"Right, sorry." He bends to retrieve something from his bag, and she focuses in on the curve of his ass under the cotton. She looks away as he straightens. "Here."

"Thanks." Sam watches her as she retreats into the bathroom. He stands for a moment after she's gone staring at the place had been for a moment longer than he should have.

"Right..." He blows out a long breath. "That's not at all sexy. Nope. She's just... I just have to...right. Now I'm talking to myself, great." His forehead crinkles in self deprecating way. He pulls a pillow and a spare blanket out of the closet and heads for the couch. Realizing he still needs to put on a shirt he makes his way back into the bedroom and pulls one on, grabbing a book on his way back to the couch. Ainsley appears a moment later, her folded clothes in her hands, her long hair beginning to curl around her.

"Um, I- I'll see you in the morning then." She seems a bit less tipsy.

"Good night, Ainsley." He smils at her from his place on the couch.

"Sleep well." She returns his smile and he hears the click of the closet door as she hangs her clothes a few seconds later. He leans back against the arm of the couch and becomes absorbed in his book.

Sometime later he gets up quietly and brushes his teeth. He notices the bedroom light on.

"Ainsley? Is everything okay?" He steps into the room carefully. A smile softens the worried lines of his face. She's fallen asleep with his copy of leaves of grass in her hands. He pauses to take her in for a moment before gently removing the book from her hands. She sighs in her sleep and curls up on her side. He sets the book down on the nightstand and turns off the light.

The clock on the microwave shows 1:30 am. He sighs, rubbing his eyes as he sinks into the couch. It's a good thing that it's a Friday night. He is asleep in minutes.

The morning light streams in through the curtain-less windows and when Sam can no longer ignore the brightness he rolls over with a groan and stares up at the ceiling for a moment before he staggers out of the softness of the couch with another groan. He glances at the clock in the kitchen, 9:02. This is the latest he has slept in a very long time. He listens for sounds of Ainsley stirring and hears none as he walks into the bathroom. He can't bring himself to change out of his sleeping clothes, nor can he muster the desire to shave his slight stubble just yet. He finds that he has pancake mix and bittersweet chocolate chips. Those two ingredients provide a way for him to wake the southern belle firecracker in his bed gently.

Fifteen minutes later he hears the lightly shuffling steps of said firecracker as she emerges from her night's rest. She makes a pained sound as she eases into a chair at the small bistro table. He sets a cup of coffee down in front of her along with some sugar packets.

"Thanks sugar..." Her voice is slightly gravely with sleep. He smiles and sets a plate of pancakes in front of her.

"Eat up. We have to get you back to your car so you can get a change of clothes, then we are going on the search for places to live. If you're still up to it that is." He watches as the tiredness around her eyes disappears and she comes back to the world of the living.

"That sounds great." She focuses in on the food. As he pours batter into the pan for himself, he hears her moan slightly. "Oh Sam, these are perfect. Bittersweet is so much better in pancakes."

"Glad you like them, Ains." He sits down across from her and watches as she tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear, folding her legs up into the chair beneath her. He fixes his eyes on his plate.

The rest of the morning passes without incident, or so Sam thinks. What he doesn't know is that Ainsley had tried to get dressed after she washed the dishes (it was the least she could do, she thought) and walked in on him pulling his jeans on. Her face burned as she fled into the bathroom to try to make her hair behave. Despite the slight hitch on Ainsley's part, they got out the door without much interference.

Ainsley steps out of Sam's car a little while later. "Meet me in an hour?"

Sam glances at the dash clock. "Sure. Where?"

"How about that little cafe with the great pastries?" Sam smiles at her request.

"I will see you there." He makes sure she gets into her car okay and followes her out of the garage before speeding back to the hotel to kill some time.

Ainsley is grateful to be back in her little hotel room with her things. Once she has made sense of her hair, pulled on a pair of dark wash jeans and a T-shirt, Ainsley settles down in front of her laptop computer for a few minutes. She's found the place she wanted within minutes of looking. She checks the time and rushes out of her room.

She finds Sam sipping something that's probably still too hot to drink. She spotshim sitting at one of the tables by the window and pauses a moment to take him in before she joins him. His face lights up.

"Ainsley!" He seems cheerful. "I take it you found a place online?"

"Gosh, how did you know?" She teases as she opens her computer. "Actually, I found this one beautiful place about a mile from capitol hill, on E Street southeast."

He looked over her shoulder and laughs. "I looked at this place too. I'm not sure I can afford it, even with my wealth." She glances at the price.

"We could split the rent. I think there are two bedrooms." She looks up at him.

He seems to consider it for a moment. "Lets go take a look at the place. As soon as I finish this." She picks up the peach tart he has ordered her.

"Is it any good?" He asks her and she holds it out to him. He takes a bite and it melts on his tongue. "Okay, that is good." She smiles as if to say I told you so.

He finishes his coffee as she finishes eating. She slides her computer back into the messenger bag and stands. He offeres her his arm and she takes it without a second thought. They walk the few blocks to the lofts and into the office.

The woman at the desk looks up. "How may I help you?"

"Hi. We would like to take a look at a two bedroom loft, if you have time for us that is." Sam seems slightly ill at ease as he shakes the woman's hand.

"Okay lovely, we have two units open at the moment." She's typing quickly at her workstation. "One is a classic loft, both bedrooms and the great room look out over the river." Sam feels Ainsley twitch.

"We would like to see that one please." He gives the woman his best smile. She falters slightly.

"O-of corse. This way please." She leads them to the elevators and through a few hallways to a door. They step inside to find a very open kitchen and an airy great room. Ainsley's arm slides out of his and she walks further into the apartment, turning a slow circle in the massive great room. Sam sticks his hands in his pockets and follows her slowly. They both tune out the woman from the front desk as she talks animatedly.

"What do you think of it?" He's speaking quietly to Ainsley as she stares out the windows.

"I love it." She is slightly breathless as she turns the handle and steps out onto the balcony. He follows her, feeling more contented and excited than he has since winning his race. She leans against the railing, her hair blowing in the wind. Sam looks away.

"It might be best if we checked out the bedrooms, Ainsley." She turns and blinks at him. He realizes how that sounded. "Not-"

She laughs. "I know, Sam. It won't do us much good to have a place we can't actually live in." She breezes past him and up the stairs. He follows her into the loft. She darts left into a slightly smaller room. He goes into the master bedroom and stares out the windows.

He can hear her muffled shout that there is enough closet space. He smiles and wanders into the master bath. It is spacious and modern with slate tiles. Sam stands quietly, contemplating the feeling of rightness that he has growing in his chest. It is odd to feel something like this; a connection to another person that he more than tolerates. He hadn't had that with Lisa.

Ainsley leans against the door frame, not wanting to shake him out of his daze. He's starring at nothing, a look in his painfully blue eyes that she hasn't seen before. He notices her draped against the door frame.

"What do you think Ains?" She's silent for a moment and he knows that she's trying to decide what to say. She pushes herself off the door jam and walks into the master bathroom.

"It feels like home already Sam." A slow smile grows on his face at her words and he pulls her into a hug. Ainsley closeds her eyes, thanking god that he's okay with her words. She doesn't know what will happen with them living in the same space, but she hopes she can get over her issues with cohabitation. She could for Sam.

"Good." He pulls out of the hug and the smile lingers in his eyes. "Let's go find that woman from the front desk and find out when we can sign the lease." Ainsley nods and follows him down to the lobby.

The woman looks up from the desk as they approach. Ainsley turns on her southern charm. "We'll take it."

"Great! I have a copy of the lease here for you to sign." She hands the paperwork to Sam.

He raises an eyebrow. "This is a single party lease. We need a cosigning lease."

The woman looks surprised. "You two aren't married?" Ainsley's eyes go wide, Sam blinks.

"No." they say in unison.

"Just colleagues, old friends." Sam seems slightly flustered.

"Well...okay. Just a moment please." Ainsley hears the woman mutter 'could have fooled me' under her breath as she leaves to find the lease agreement. She returns a moment later and both Sam and Ainsley read over the lease completely before signing. The woman takes the lease, makes sure everything is marked in the right places and that account numbers are written.

"Okay. That should do it! You can move in whenever you want. My name is Ariadne, by the way." She holds out her hand to Ainsley.

"Congresswoman Ainsley Hayes, pleasure to meet you." The woman is disarmed by her smile.

Sam offers his hand. "Congressman Sam Seaborn. How are you."

"Well, I can't say you two are the first representatives in the building, you are however, the first representative roommates." She seems to gather her wits. "Welcome to the building." They thank her and take their leave.

"That was easier than I thought it would be." Sam is deftly navigating towards the coffee shop where their cars are parked.

"I know! I expected some sort of complex waiting game. I guess not everything in life is like trying to pass a bill." Ainsley laughs as she holds the door open for Sam. He mimes tipping his hat and she laughs harder.

He sits down at a table after pulling her seat out for her. She stirs her ice water absently. Sam becomes preoccupied with her hands, she has long fingers with alarmingly red nails that matched her straw. He smiles, his thoughts broken when she speaks to him.

"When do you want to move in?" She takes a sip through the straw.

He sighs and rubs a hand along his jaw. "I'm not sure I can stand another week in a hotel." He looks up at her through his lashes.

"Oh lord, I know what you mean. All my things are in storage. What about you?" She fiddls with the corner of the menu card on the table.

"Mine are too. We need a truck."

"And some burly men to carry everything." She half teases.

"That sounds like a good idea." Sam watchs people enter and exit the subway system. "I wonder if they can do it on the short notice of doing it tomorrow."

Ainsley stands from her seat. " I know a place that can. They helped me move when I was here the first time, gosh, five years ago?" She has made her way to the counter by the time he's ready to make his reply. She returns with a piece of quiche and two forks. He smells bacon.

"Bacon Ainsley?" She just smiles.

"You should know better by now." She takes a bite. He laughs.

"So. You'll contact the movers and we can move in tomorrow?" She nods at his question. "Great!"

"I'll call you later to tell you what time they can be ready, is that okay?" Ainsley takes another bite.

"That's perfect, Ains." Sam smiles at her. They finish their snack and part ways. Sam drives back to his hotel, grateful to be back to his temporary home. He walks in the door and sits down on the now cleared couch. The place feels empty. He pushes the feeling aside and begins to pack what he has.

Ainsley is in a similar state of unrest. Something feels like it's off, but she can't place it. She considers the possibility that it's the absence of her best friend, but passes that off as ridiculous. Things had remained friendly, even after Ainsley left the counsel's office, Sam lost the Orange County race once and even after he quit as deputy to Josh Lyman. That was almost a year ago. Now they were members of Congress. Five years could change a lot.

She packs her scattered belongings as a way to keep her mind busy. She then finds the number of the moving company and sets up the truck and extra hands. She calls Sam, waiting for him to pick up. She hears him answer then drop the phone and swear.

"Sorry Ains, I have a laundry basket in one hand." She smiles, imagining him balancing the phone and laundry basket as he talks.

"The movers will be at the place by one tomorrow. We will go to the storage units after we meet them there." She listens as he walks, noticing that the feeling she was trying to place lessened as she talked with him.

"That's great, Ainsley! I'll see you tomorrow at one then." He wrangles the laundry room door open.

Ainsley holds back a sigh. "Yeah, see you tomorrow."

Sam pauses, he can hear the slight sadness in her voice. "Hey, Ainsley." He hears its as she stops moving. "Sleep well tonight."

She smiles into the phone and he can hear it in her voice as she wishes him the same. For some reason it relieves him.

Sam calls Ariadne in the morning, realizing that Ainsley hadn't called to tell the woman that they would be moving in. Ariadne told him to come a bit early so that she could give him the keys. He had agreed to meet her at twelve thirty.

Ainsley finds him that afternoon draped against the side of the building talking easily with moving crew. She smiles and greets them. They are busy loading and unloading things until four thirty at which point Ainsley's stomach made itself known. Sam laughs. The jovial moving crew had left half an hour before with much laughter.

"Should we order in and christen the place as ours with Chinese food?" Sam is so earnest that Ainsley finds it hard not to laugh.

"Sure!" She gets on the phone right away and orders their favorites off the cuff. She glances over her shoulder so see Sam pushing her light gray modern couch towards the windows. She smiles, the mysterious feeling from that morning and the day before completely gone, as she watches him quickly pick and choose pieces from both their collections and put together a living room. She watches as he muscles a gray chaise covered in slightly worn velvet to rest in the windowed corner of the room.

"That's a beautiful piece." She puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looks up sharply and offers a slight smile.

"It was my mothers." He looks away. That tells her all she needed to know. She runs a comforting hand through his hair and he leans back against her slightly. They stay like that until her phone rings; its the delivery guy telling her he's in the lobby. She grabs her keys and goes to get the food.

When she gets back he asks her, "Why is there a large square hole in this coffee table?" She smiles as she sets the paper bags of food down on the kitchen island.

"I'll show you." She walks out onto the balcony and returns with a glass box containing a cascade of deep purple orchids growing on a log embedded in moss. She carefully sets the container in the large square depression and the flowers spill over the side. "I brought them back from India when I was twenty."

"Wow." Sam bends to examine the cascade of orchids. "I always kill houseplants." He helps her move the table into the living area. She retrieves the cartons of food and they spread it all out on the orchid table.

"You know H.R. 154 is going to pass right?" Sam is goading her as he takes another bite of his food. She glares.

"I have no comment on the issue, Sam." She takes a bite, he laughs.

They finish dinner, leaving the containers on the coffee table because there aren't any garbage bags, and begin to search for bed linens in the boxes. Sam finds a magic marker and begins to label as he goes. Ainsley laughs.

"Sam, post-labeling doesn't count as being organized." She says teasingly.

"So?" He finishes writing something on the side of a box and looks at her. "It will be helpful later." She smiles and shakes her head as she opens another box.

Sam whoops for joy when he opens a rather large box to find his bed linens. He carries the box over to the couch and returns to help Ainsley in her search. They spend half an hour looking for her things before she opens a box and holds up a teddy bear. Sam blushes.

"What's this?" She straightens the bear's black bow tie. Sam takes it from her gently.

"My niece gave me this before I left for Princeton." He looks at it fondly and sets it on top of the box of his linens.

A moment later Ainsley opens a large box and sits back on her heels. "Finally." Sam smiles and lets her lead the way up the stairs.


	2. Let Your Guard Down

_**Chapter Two: Let Your Guard Down**_

Weeks go by; they bicker, unpack boxes, eat way too much takeout, put the loft together and return unneeded things to storage, and work to late far to often.

Things are perfect until they aren't. Its a Sunday, February 4, that Sam comes home to find Ainsley sitting on the couch with a tumbler of Scotch in her hand and tears running down her face. He has never seen her cry; not when she left the counsel's office, not when he left for California.

"Ainsley?" She doesn't respond and it sends him running across the loft to kneel in front of her. "Ainsley, what happened."

She takes a gulp of the Scotch. "There was an explosion." She wipes angrily at her tears before continuing. "In a market in Bagdad. 133 people were killed, including seven American Marines."

"I heard about that." He carefully puts a hand over hers. He sits on the couch next to her.

"He's dead." The emptiness in her eyes terrifies him. "US Marine Corps. Captain Daniel L. Taylor, my best friend was just killed in action." A heart wrenching sob breaks through her chest and tightens a noose around his heart.

He pulls her into his lap and holds her, not knowing what else to do. Her hand fist in his shirt and the glass of Scotch tumbles onto the floor, smashing with a deafening sound. Sam buries his face into her neck and whispers comfort as her tears begin to ease. When her tears are silent he slides an arm under her legs and carries her into her bathroom, setting her on the counter.

"Hey." He gently lifts her chin. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?" She nods weakly. He starts the water running and makes sure that she has a clean towel before he leaves her alone.

Ainsley carefully slides off the counter and stares at herself in the mirror. All she can see in the reflection is Daniel's blue eyes. She turns away and begins undressing with shaking hands before stepping under the warm cascade of water, feeling it beat against her skin and begin to weigh down her hair. She stands there waiting for her tears to well up again. They do and she cries quietly so as not to worry Sam.

When her eyes are dry and her throat hoarse, she steps out of the shower numbly. She wraps the towel around herself after squeezing some of the water out of her hair. She catches a glimpse of a pale, hollow version of herself with red rimmed eyes in the mirror.

She finds a clean pair of pajamas and pulls them on and climbs into bed, functioning on auto pilot. Ainsley looks up as Sam enters the room, a mug of hot coco in his hands.

"Here." She takes it from him gratefully. He sits by her side as she silently finishes it.

He takes the mug downstairs and returns a little while later, dressed in his sleeping clothes. She's curled on her side, starring into the room. He kneels down and meets her eyes.

"Ainsley." She blinks at his soft words. "Are you going to be okay tonight?" She doesn't move. He takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and wraps it around and around until he reaches her scalp and buries a hand in her fine blond hair.

"Sam." She says after a while. He 'hmms' in response. "Stay with me?" He nods. She moves closer to the center of the bed and he turns out the light before joining her. She curls against his chest and falls asleep in the circle of his arms. He breathes her in, closing his eyes.

There is a pain sitting heavily on his chest, woven in between his ribs and making it hard to breathe. He looks at her face in the dim light from the windows, her brow is contorted in sorrow. He feels the pain grow and closes his eyes against the sting of tears as he feels long exiled memories begin to surface. He holds Ainsley closer and concentrates on her breath and the murmur of her heart.

Sam is woken by the ringing of Ainsley's cell phone in the morning. He feels her curl further into his chest before she leans over him and picks up the device. She stares at the phone in her hands for a moment, her tangled hair obscuring her face, before she answers.

"Mr. Taylor." Her voice is lifeless and rough from the tears. He watches her hands shake as she holds the phone to her ear. " Did you make it here okay?"

She listens for a moment before she bites her lip and her voice cracks as she says, "I know Papa, I know..." Her whole body is shaking as Sam sits up and carefully pulls her against his side. "I miss him already."

A single tear slides down her pale cheek. "When is he coming home?" Sam buries his face in her neck, listening. "Papa..."

She falls silent for a while and he can hear the bereaved voice of an older man on the other end of the line. "Of corse I will. I always will, you know that. I need someone by my side, papa. Yes. He wants to pay his respects. No, papa, his father served. He knows about honor." She says goodbye and closes the phone. It rests idly in her hands.

She looks up at Sam, her eyes filled with grief. "He's coming home at three this afternoon." She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Sam, I need you by my side."

He searches her face, looking for something that he can't quite find. "Always. I will be there when you need me, no matter what." He drops a kiss on her head. Ainsley squeezes his hand in silent thanks. He looks away and slides out of the bed.

She checks the time on her phone. He can tell she's hoping that time will stand still, wait for her to regain her footing. It doesn't. She feels Sam take the phone from her hands. The lessening of that little weight gives her the strength to rouse herself and stand next to him. Her body aches down to the marrow of her bones.

Its hours later when Sam watches as she sits down at an antique dressing table, patiently working the knots out of her hair. She meets his eyes in the mirror and he pretends to fiddle with his cufflinks. She looks down at her dressing table as she works her long hair into a French twist and holds it there with one hand. She picks up a pearl comb and holds it between her lips as she works a the ends of a black netting veil into the hairstyle and secures it with the comb. She tucks in the folds of veil, securing them with single pearl pins, before she stands from the low seat and locks eyes with him. Sam nods and follows her down the stairs.

Ainsley is silent for the drive to the airstrip. When they arrive just before three, she pulls the netting veil over her eyes and steps out of the car. Sam offers her his arm and she takes it with a hard mustered hint of a smile.

A sturdy older man greets Ainsley as they approach the small group of mourners. "Hello Buttercup." He looks warn and drawn above his dress uniform.

Ainsley slips her arm out of Sam's and hugs the man. "Hello Papa."

The man pulls away and holds her at arm's length for a moment, looking her over carefully. He smiles sadly. "Look at my Buttercup all grown up and a Congresswoman."

"Papa, this is Sam." Ainsley looks up at him through her veil and he can see the slightest bit of hope in her eyes.

The older man holds out his hand to Sam. "James R. Taylor. Pleased to meet you."

Sam shakes his hand. "Congressman Sam N. Seaborn. My deepest condolences for your loss."

The sound of the Honor Guard's precise footsteps echoing in the gaping belly of the transport plane called the group of mourners to attention. They lined up and watched as seven caskets were borne forth from the cavern and carried in perfect, somber time to seven hearses.

The funeral motorcade wound its way to Arlington and the caskets were carried in a silent tattoo towards their final resting places by the stern faced Marine Corps. Honor Guard. Ainsley walked arm in arm with Sam to the gravesite, her face betraying her pain through the veil.

The February afternoon sun was the palest of golds as the flag was lifted to hover above the casket and chaplain began to speak. All that Ainsley could hear was the laughter of faded memories, she could only see Daniel's clear blue eyes the day he left for his last tour, and she could only feel the heavy strength of his arms around her as he hugged her goodbye.

She is torn from her memories as the rifle party is called to attention. She fixes her eyes on the white gloved hands that begin to fold the flag. The first volley is fired into the clear air. She doesn't flinch. One of the honor guard accepts the flag at the time of the second volley and at the third the folded flag is given to James Taylor. With that third sharp sounding of gunfire it hits home that Captain Daniel L. Taylor is gone. Silent tears stream down her cheeks as taps is played.

Dinner with Mr. Taylor that night is a somber affair. They talk about things that don't matter, things that aren't laced with sadness. They bid their farewells sometime later.

"You take care of yourself now, Papa, or you'll be in a heap of trouble." Ainsley hugs him tight and a sliver of a smile appears on the aged man's face.

"I will, buttercup, I will." He kisses Ainsley on the cheek and Sam holds Ainsley's door open for her.

"Sam." Mr. Taylor calls him back. "You treat her right or there'll be hell to pay."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand." Sam stares at the man in slight bewilderment.

James Taylor strikes a match and lights a cigar. He blows out the first puff of smoke and searches Sam's face. He nods when he finds what he'd been looking for.

"I know you don't, son, but your heart does." He sighs. "She doesn't see how much she need you yet, she will."

Sam thinks for a moment. "I think I understand, Mr. Taylor."

"Good." Another smokey exhale. "You treat her right, she's all I've got left."

Sam smiles. "Always."

Mr. Taylor holds out his hand and Sam takes it. "Godspeed, James Taylor."

The older man has tears in his eyes. "Thank you, son."

Sam watches as the older man puts his gnarled hands in his pockets, walks to the corner and hails a cab. He gets in the car and it purrs to life. He knows that right now silence is the best thing, so he drives them home. He pulls into his parking spot and cuts the engine. Ainsley looks up as he opens her door. She takes his offered hand.

She drifts through the door and into the dark living room, her shoes abandoned in the kitchen. Sam takes off his tie and suit coat. He follows her into the faintly illuminated room, watching as she bends to turn on the stereo. He recognizes the song, its by Joshua James. The song shimmers in the air around them and she looks up at him through the veil and whispers.

"Hold me." And he does, he holds her in the circle of his arms. He sways gently and slowly they begin to move with the music. The transition to dancing is fluid and logical somehow. She buries a hand in his hair as her forehead drops to rest against his collarbone.

She whispers "...thank you..." endlessly.

His eyes burn with tears as he rests his cheek against the top of her head. Sam knows what this kind of pain feels like, he knows that she's broken and it's going to take a while before she's okay. He makes a promise to himself that he will always be there.

It's an indeterminable amount of time until she pulls away and takes his hand, leading him up the stairs. He leaves her at the door to her bedroom and goes to change into his sleeping clothes quickly. When he enters her room she's sitting at the dressing table, trying to pull the pins from her hair with shaking hands. He stands behind her wordlessly and gently removes all the pins. He lifts the netting to reveal her eyes.

She locks eyes with him in the mirror and a slow, sad smile blooms on her lips. He kisses the top of her head as he pulls the pearl comb from her hair and lifts the veil off completely as her hair tumbles down her back. He leaves the room and closes the door, sliding down the wall just outside. He rests his head back against the wall and stares blankly at the ceiling. Sam understands what Mr. Taylor had been talking about; he had been right about Sam's heart understanding.

The door opens. He stands up and Ainsley takes his hand in silent request for him to stay. He returns the gentle pressure and turns off the light as she worms her way into bed. He curls around her, holing her svelte form against his.

"Does the pain ever go away?" Her voice is quiet in the dark room.

"No." He is silent for a moment. "It never goes away completely. It fades, wanes until it is just a dull ache connected to the memories."

She is silent for a while. " We grew up together, like brother and sister when I was young. My father was always somewhere else, my mother was either at the bottom of a bottle or with my father where ever he was." He listens as she speaks, knowing this is what she needs. "Papa took me in, he raised Daniel and I in the same house, he loved me like I was his own flesh and blood. He still does.

"Daniel and I were inseparable; we went to the same schools, from kindergarten on. Daniel's mother died at the end of our Senior year. It tore him up inside, more so than me. Things were rough, but we had each other to lean on. We were there to pick up the pieces no matter what happened. It was August when he told me he was going to join the Marines. I was so afraid that it made me angry.

"We fought for weeks about it. We screamed and cursed the high heavens and we said the most hurtful of things to each other. He was deployed in the middle of August to Beirut in a peace keeping task force. I worried for the six months that while he was there we would get a call telling us that Daniel was part of the body count and that he would never forgive me.

"He came home in February. Papa and I went to pick him up at the airport and I was so worried that he was still angry with me. I remember seeing him step through the doors. He spotted me in the crowd and ran to sweep me off me feet, saying he was sorry over and over. The war changed him, it changed me too, it made both of us stronger. The war made our bond stronger." She draws as shaky breath before she continues.

"Saying goodbye never got any easier." She closes her eyes and settles closer to him.

"Did you love him?" Sam is afraid to ask, but the darkness gives him courage.

"No." She says the word like a sigh. "We knew _everything _about each other; we knew about our family secrets, what was in our dresser drawers, who we liked, who we slept with. I was the only one who knew that he was not the straight laced US Marine everyone thought he was. He was my brother, never my lover."

Ainsley falls silent and Sam listens as her breath evens out and she falls asleep. He wishes with every fiber of his being that he was holding her for different reasons; he wishes that she wasn't going through immense amounts of pain, he wishes that he was holding her because she wanted him to and not because she needed him to.

He's sure that she's sleeping as he whispers his promise in her ear. "Always."

After that night, there are no more times when Sam and Ainsley share a bed; the only thing that changes between them is how much they let their guard down around each other. The most noticeable change is in Ainsley. She usually shies away from any kind of physical contact, even simple things like being touched on the shoulder by someone trying to get her attention.

She will let Sam rest his hand in the curve of her back as they enter a restaurant. She hugs him when he comes home late and she will lean against his side, absorbed in whatever she's reading, as they sit on the couch glaring at Congressional papers. The change alarms him at first, but he learns to accept her slightly timid affection.

For Sam, her change has made things harder. He dreams of her, his mind filling in the blanks with what could be there. He sees the beautiful length of her creamy legs as she lounges on his bed, contrasting beautifully with his dark sheets. She's wearing one of his shirts, lying on her stomach reading. It's not overtly sexual, it doesn't have to be to drive him crazy. In most of these first dreams he's just holding her.

His dreams become far more heated as the weeks pass. She's spread out underneath him, begging, most of the time. The dreams wind him tighter than he's been since working in the White House and they are starting to bleed into his waking hours.

He's sitting at his desk one Monday, staring at paperwork and trying not to go postal on the other side of the aisle because of a bill about 'explorative drilling' in a national wilderness. This is their third try. His head sinks into his hands momentarily and he runs his fingers through his hair. He notices a cupcake sitting on the corner of his desk and groans. Sam isn't sure how long it's been sitting there, but he tries to glare it down.

It's red velvet, cream cheese frosting and a cherry. He can see her sitting on the edge of his desk, like she always does, asking if she can have the pastry. He just nods even though the room is empty. She takes it off the napkin and pulls the cherry free of the frosting. There is a little bit of the cream cheese still sticking to the red fruit as she brings it to her lips. She pauses.

"It's true that you can tie a knot in a cherry stem." She puts the stem end in her mouth and proves it. He feels his mouth drop open as she offers him a coquettish, flirty smile before biting into the cupcake. Sam groans as he comes back to reality and drops his head to his desk with a solid thunk. He sits there for a moment before looking up to find the Ainsley created by his over active imagination licking a smear of frosting off a finger.

He bangs his head on his desk repeatedly, trying to get the images of her out of his mind so he can concentrate. He hears his door open, but ignores it.

"Congressman Seaborn?" He raises his head to stare at his aide who looks rather alarmed. "Are you okay, Sir?"

He ignores the question. "What did you need?"

"This is the final draft of HR 205." Sam blinks and realizes that the young man looks like a male combination of Donna Moss and Leo's assistant Margaret Hooper. He takes the folio from the aide and adds it to the stack of papers.

"Thank you Andrew. You should go home for the night, I'm going to be here for a while." Sam looks back to the endless paper on his desk and sighs.

Andrew raises an eyebrow, picks up the stack and begins to leaf through it. "Congressman, you've already signed off on most of these. Besides, I go home when you do, Sir."

The comment brings a smile to Sam's face. The boy is just like Margaret. "Andrew, do you know a woman named Margaret Hooper?"

The young man stills for a moment. "Yes. She's my aunt." Well, that explained it. Sam is handed a small sheaf of papers. "These are the only things you have to look over before Friday. I suggest that you go home for the night, you have a red patch on your forehead."

Sam chuckles and stands up from his desk. "Thank you Andrew. Have a good night."

Sam sighs as he steps into the parking garage, its the tail end of March and all the news outlets are reporting that the temperature and humidity are abnormally high for this time of the year. Sam doesn't mind the heat so much as the humidity, it makes his skin feel sticky and constantly sweaty. He gets into his car and turns on the AC, trying to dry out slightly and cool off.

He's relieved to step through the door into the loft and shed his tie as he makes his way into the living room. He can hear soft music and see the glow of a lamp. He knows that Ainsley is somewhere close by, but he can't see her just yet. He notices that the door to the balcony is open and a light breeze is stirring the orchids. Sam pauses as he rounds the couch, his hands stilling on the button of his shirt.

Ainsley is draped languidly on her stomach over the cushions of the couch, her long legs exposed, her shoulders bare. She's wearing a blue camisole and a pair of sleep shorts which are crumpled up and over thighs and he can see a glimpse of her underwear. He can see the faint glisten of sweat on her shoulder blades. She groans and props herself up on her elbows, looking over her shoulder at him.

"It's too hot." Sam smiles at her crankiness and she looks like she wants to glare but can't. Her hair is captured and, more importantly, off her neck in a messy knot.

"I thought you liked the heat Ainsley." He sits down, moving her feet.

"In the South, we have air conditioning when we need it. I've been in DC long enough that my heat tolerance has gone way down." She turns over and sits up, rolling her neck to work out the kinks. She looks out the windows, a wistful look in her eyes. "Daniel loved the North Carolina summers."

Sam stares at his hands, mentally yelling at himself because of his desire. He takes a breath and looks up at her.

"Are you okay?" He knows that its a stupid question to ask, but he can't find anything else to say.

She looks away from the windows, but she can't quite meet his eyes. "I'm all right Sam." He doesn't believe her.

It takes Sam until April to believe Ainsley when she says that she's okay. He knows he can believe her when he is woken up one Saturday morning with loud music coming from downstairs. He groans as he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling before he rolls out of bed and stumbles downstairs.

He finds her in the kitchen and leans against the door way to watch her as she bakes something chocolate. She's wearing one of his dress shirts, it looks like a dress on her, as she dances to KT Tunstall's 'Big Black Horse & The Cherry Tree' using the batter covered wooden spoon for a microphone.

He watches her hips swivel as she dances and coaxes batter into a muffin tin. He notices the creamy length of her legs as she stretches to reach the chocolate morsels. She presses them into each cupcake and licks the spoon as she dances her way to the oven. She freezes for a few seconds when she sees him leaned against the doorway. She blinks, shrugs and begins to lip sink for him while licking the spoon free of batter.

His eyebrows arch as she tosses the spoon towards the sink and pulls him into the kitchen with her. Her hands are on his hips, guiding him to move with her. She grins and he feels his inhibitions fly out the window. His attention focuses in on her lips as she performs the song for him. He grabs her hand and maneuvers her into a spin. She laughs as she looses her balance and he catches her.

"Good morning Ainsley." She looks up at him, a smile pulling at her mouth.

"Hello Sam." He lets her go as she rights herself. She dances herself over to the coffee pot and pours him a cup before settling in at the island. He leans against the counter across from her. He takes a swig of his coffee, studying her over the rim of his mug.

"Let's go out tonight." He watches her face.

He sees a smile begin to grow on her lips as she tucks her hair behind her ear. She shifts in the chair and fiddles with the button on his shirt. He waits.

"Okay." She smiles up at him and it makes him grin like an idiot. The buzzer on the oven makes itself known. He watches as she slides off the chair and carefully removes the cupcakes from the oven. She leaves them on the counter to cool and hops up to sit on the counter.

He smiles as she swings her feet. "Where would you like to go tonight?"

She looks thoughtful for a moment. "How about that Indian place on capitol hill that we've wanted to go since I started with the Bartlet Administration?"

"A woman after my own heart." Sam knows there's thinly veiled meaning in those words, he is a speech writer after all.

Ainsley's musical laugh fills the kitchen. "My mama taught me the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach." He raises his coffee cup to her.

They spend most of the day running errands. Ainsley tells him under no uncertain terms that she will help him with the food shopping this week. He flushes pink slightly and tries to defend himself weakly before he gives up. They make it home by five, slightly sweaty and laughing. Ainsley leaves him to put away the groceries while she showers. He doesn't mind one bit. Sam balances the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he calls to make reservations.

Ainsley steps into the shower, grateful that the water is cutting the sticky heat of the unusually warm April day. The heat hasn't broken since around March 29. It isn't just the weather she's considering as heat; she thinks about her recent daydreams that strike her at the oddest, most inappropriate moments. Her body remembers Sam's warmth and masculinity from when she had needed him to hold her together and he had curled around her.

She blushes as she thinks about why she feels okay being near him or touching him. It's her secret. She has become addicted almost to his warmth and his slightly spicy smell and it triggers her impulsive urges. She finds herself wanting to reach out and pull him into a hug to feel his stubble against her neck when he comes home for they day. She will catch herself talking far too long fiddling with his tie and collar in the morning before they rush out the door, coffees in hand. She finds it odd that she does that because Mrs. Taylor would do that to Daniel's father before he left for work.

She washes her hair, thinking about her preoccupation with her best friend. She likes the broadness of his shoulders and the way that his hair is perpetually mussed like he's either been sleeping or kissing someone senseless. Oh lord, his lips. The bottom one pouts perfectly and is usually slightly red because he bites it when he's thinking about something.

She turns of the water and dries body before she goes to her closet. She pulls on a red silk dress that accentuates her waist and flirts around her knees before she remembers that she can't zip it herself. Ainsley bites her lip and foes to find Sam.

She can hear him moving around in his room as she passes his closed door and stops. Taking a deep breath she musters her courage.

"Sam?" She hears him drop something and raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" The door opens a few seconds later. He's mostly dressed, but his shirt is open.

Her eyes quickly move to his face and stay there. "I need your help, can you zip me up?"

It takes a moment for him to process the request, then he smiles. "Sure."

"Thanks Sam." She turns so that he can see her back.

Sam loses his train of thought as he sees the smooth skin of her back and the red lace of her bra strap. He bites his bottom lip and raises trembling hands towards the zipper. Despite his best attempts, his fingers brush the length of her spine and he could swear that he sees her shiver.

Ainsley wipes the slightly dazed expression off her face and turns to look at him. Her mouth is slightly dry. "Thanks again. I'll be done in a minute." He nods.

True to her promise, Ainsley comes down the stairs a few moments later and takes Sam's breath away. She had very little makeup on, the dress fit her sinfully well, and she is wearing a choker made of dark red rhinestones that looks like it came from some other era. Her heels click as she walked towards him.

"You are an amazing, stunningly beautiful woman Ainsley Hayes." He watches her as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and blushes.

"Thank you." He feels her sweep over him. "I'm not sure I do justice to the gorgeous Sam Seaborn though."

He laughs and kisses her on the cheek, feeling the heat of her blush. "Nonsense. You far outshine me. Shall we go?" She nods and follows him out.

Its a short drive to the restaurant and she finds that fact merciful because the small enclosed space of the car and the humidity make his scent all the more intoxicating. She's much relieved when he opens the door and offers his arm. She shakes her head slightly, he's ever the gentleman.

Sam watches her pour over the dinner menu as he idly swirls the wine in his glass. She cocks her head to the side and a lock of blond hair falls over her shoulder. He almost chokes as flashes of a recent heated dream return to him. He has buried his hand in her hair as she works him with her mouth against one of the walls in the living room. He pulls her off himself and she leads him to the couch before she straddles him.

Sam takes a gulp of his wine and begins to recite the bill of rights in his head until the waiter comes to take their orders. He breathes a sigh of relief as the sudden flare of desire dissipates. He goes back to being his suave, mostly diplomatic self as he places his order.

Ainsley is throughly grounded against her bolt from the blue daydreams as she and Sam begin to talk shop. It isn't until the food arrives that she is completely disarmed. She watches as Sam washes his tika masala down with a sip of wine, making his adam's apple bob temptingly. He continues to talk about the latest UN diplomats vs. the city of New York and she is all but lost as she imagines him spread out beneath her, his beautiful hands gripping the sheets, panting heavily.

They both jump as their cell phones buzz. She fishes hers out of her clutch and glowers at it before she shoves it back from whence it came with more poignant irritation than he expected.

"Damn it!" Sam's eyes go wide as she swears. "I told those morons that the amendment would sink the bill." His eyebrows rise as she finishes her glass of wine.

"What happened?" He's hoping that she doesn't get worked into too much of a lather and go storming off to the congressional offices to shout at her colleagues.

"They seem to think that they can slip an amendment onto the Katrina Aid bill that completely negates President Santos' policy on explorative drilling and still get it passed." Ainsley stabs apiece of chicken.

Sam smiles slightly, enjoying her fire. "I read that amendment. I thought that Josh would throw a fit and advise Santos to veto."

She sighs. "He did. He's going to veto if they don't take the amendment off. They want me come in and help them fix it, but they can wait for Monday."


	3. Somethings Gotta Give

_**Chapter Three: Something's Gotta Give**_

They make their ways through the tests of Monday; three floor fights, mountains of paper, insufferable colleagues and when the end of the day rolls around, it's one the in the morning. Sam gets home first, tosses his keys on the island, rips off his tie, and storms up stairs to his bathroom. He's trying, and failing, to forget the pointless drudgery turned to irritation that was his day. He turns on the shower and strips down, enjoying the heat rushing over his back. His exhaustion and tense state triggers a vision of Ainsley, a combination of a half remembered dream and the memory of her pressed against him.

He feels himself go hard under the warm spray and groans. His forehead meets the shower wall with a hollow thunk and, despite his better judgement, his hand wraps around his stiffened cock. He bites back a moan as he strokes the head, feeling a bead of precum mix with the water. He closes his eyes and imagines her soft, pale form clothed in red lace, the crests of her full breasts straining against the material. He watches as she flips her hair over her shoulder and turns away from him.

Her hands skim slowly over her ribs to her waist, her hips and all the way down her legs. She pulls the red panties down as she goes and that imagined image of her bent over her legs spread slightly for him is enough to make him cum with a drawn out moan. He doesn't hear the door to the apartment open and close as he scrubs his skin clean.

Sam washes his hair and watches as the soap suds swirl down the drain before reluctantly turning off the shower. He steps out and heaves a sigh, mentally cursing himself. He's forgotten to do laundry again and there are no towels in his bathroom. He strides dripping across the wood flooring of his room and opens the door carefully, listening for signs of Ainsley. He cautiously leaves his room and wrenches the linen cabinet open. He reaches for a towel and freezes as he hears a shriek from the direction of the stairs.

He bites his lip and looks over his shoulder. "Shit." Ainsley is frozen at the top of the stairs, her hand empty, a spilled glass of something rolling around on the floor at her bare feet.

"Good lord almighty." Her eyes are wide as she sweeps her gaze over him. He's well muscled, his skin golden even after months of being away from the California sun, a koi fish tattoo curled on his deltoid muscle below the cap of his shoulder, and as for his package, it spoke for itself.

She looked away abruptly feeling her face heat slightly. She had seen her share of the masculine half of the species, but none of her previous beaus held a candle to Sam. He was very nearly flawless. She gathered her pluck and looked up at him, thanking god that he had pulled a towel around himself.

They stared at each other for a moment. "Hi Sam." Her voice is steadier than she had expected it to be.

"Ah... Welcome home Ainsley." His voice cracks slightly as he says her name. A smile curls her lips as she makes her way towards him, his unease and her hormones giving her a rush of confidence. She reaches around him and retrieves a rag from the top shelf, stretching to reach it. He catches a glimpse of the small of her back and looks up towards the ceiling, wondering what he did to deserve this torture.

She picks up the dropped glass and cleans up the liquid and as she passes him he swears her hips undulate more than normal. She disappears into her room and closes the door with a soft click. He leans heavily against the wall and his head drops back with a thunk.

Ainsley is leaned against he back of her door, trying to get the heat burning in her cheeks to fade. It takes its leave of her face and decides to pool somewhere else. She grits her teeth and tries to ignore it as she tosses the dripping cloth into her shower. She brushes her teeth with more force than is probably warranted, as if scrubbing her teeth clean will somehow clear the image of Sam's wet body from her mind. She closes her eyes and lets the image bloom behind her eyelids.

She sees his strong chest, the arch of his collarbones, the flat planes of his stomach, the easy definition of his abdominals that leads to the stretch of skin over the sharpness of his hips. She calls to mind the curve of his ass, the dimples of his back that ride on the crests of his pelvis, and the perfect bumps of his spine that lead to the wonderful broadness of his shoulders. Her recent dreams have done him no justice.

She's shaking, trying desperately to ignore the heat between her legs as she changes into her sleeping clothes. She curls under the covers and stares off into the darkness. She remembers Sam holding her as she reeled from the death of Daniel. He was always the gentleman around her. She likes so many things about him; his earnest school boy confusion when he's at a loss, the fire and strength that flares up whenever he is angry or protective, his loyalty to the people he cares about, the fact that he hates shoes and barely tolerates suspenders at formal dinners, his optimism, the way he sets his jaw when he's intent on something or being stubborn, and the intensity of his eyes. She adores his smile, the one that means he's actually happy.

She loves the way he looks when he rumpled with his hair and tie askew, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. She loves his gentleness and the shifting blues and grays in his eyes.

She closes her eyes to find a memory of his face displayed in her mind. It was like she had slowed down a film of one of his smiles. She loved watching them grow on his lips and deepen the slight lines around his eyes.

She took longer that normal to watch his eyes as this memory of a smile played in her mind. She watched as his blue eyes sparkled and grew impossibly bluer. Her chest seized up as she noticed the intense emotion boiling in the blue depths.

Ainsley's eyes are opened impossibly wide and she stares at the faint light seeping in under her door. Oh Sam... She is propelled out of bed and through her bedroom door into the hallway from the intensity of the feeling. She's standing barefoot starring at his door at two in the morning. She notices a gap in the door and pushes it open carefully, stepping into the quiet room.

She's standing beside his bed, her feet chilled by the cool floor, she can hear his breath, see the outline of him in the blankets and somehow it feels like she's not here; it feels like this is just a dream until he turns over, groggy with sleep.

"Ains?" The light clicks on and he blinks a few times, trying to adjust.

She's frozen, her hair falling around her shoulders, her green eyes wide in realization. She dredges up some memory of him whispering "always" as they turn in lazy circles to the sad words of a slow song.

"You said 'always'..." She notices the panic in his eyes.

He's propped up on his forearms, all traces of sleep gone. She realizes what the feeling that brought her here is; she loves this man. She covers her mouth with a hand and sinks to her knees as the comprehension crashes over her like a breaking wave.

"Ainsley!" Sam is kneeling in front of her, looking worried and scared. He puts a hand on her shoulder and their gazes lock, sea green with blue. She grips his forearm to steady herself, surprised at how warm he is. She studies his face noticing the slight bits of grey beginning at his temples, the slight creases around his eyes that she loves so much because they show how much he smiles and the stubble along his jaw that is also beginning to grey slightly.

She carefully cups his jaw in her hand. His eyes close and he leans into her touch, a look of longing on his striking features. She kisses his forehead, the corners of his eyes, and the corners of his lips. His eyes open and she can feel the weight of his breath against the inside of her wrist as he turns to kiss her palm as if to say, 'finally.'

He lets her sink into his arms wordlessly and he just holds her.

She stays frozen like that until her knees hurt too much to stay on the floor. She leaves the circle of his arms and sits on the edge of his bed. He joins her quietly. She can tell he wants to know what brought her into his room. She's scared to admit what she's discovered; scared that he will look at her sadly and tell her he doesn't love her.

Sam is studying her intently in the warm light. He knows that he loves her. He loves all the little things, loves that they have no secrets, loves her sweet tooth, her accent her stubbornness, her quirky sense of humor, and her brilliance. He could think about all the details of her for hours, he has before, but he would never name everything that makes her who she is.

"Sam, I..." He shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks at her. She takes a deep breath. "...I love you. All the little things, all the things that make me mad, the things that make me want to kiss you, and the gentleness that you have for me." She cannot look at him, so she stares at the wood grain of the floor.

He stares. The words sink in. Something in his chest gives way and he feel like he's high. Before she knows what's happened he's gathered her to him and he kisses her. Her hands twist into his hair and he groans. He pulls back and meets her lidded eyes, panting.

"God, Ainsley. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I love you Ainsley Hayes." She's smiling at him and running her hands through his hair. His eyes slide closed and he feels her shift to straddle his lap, her face cradled against his neck. Sam fights back tears as it hits him that she's there, in his arms, that she loves him.

She pulls back gently, just enough to be able to see his face. "What's wrong sugar?"

He can tell that she's worried, but he can't speak. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him gently. It's everything he's wanted in the world, here in this moment, in his arms. He pulls back carefully.

"It just..." He tries to find the words. "...this. There is _nothing_ wrong with this." She smiles at him and he feels like the room brightens.

Ainsley pushes her trepidation down and feels the space in her chest fill with rightness. She feels light. "It feels right, for once in my life, being with someone feels right."

Sam tries to hold in a yawn and fails. Ainsley laughs and he looks sheepish at best. "Sorry."

She shakes her head, stifling one of her own. "It is sometime in the middle of the night. We should sleep, talk about this tomorrow." She gets up to leave and her breath catches when his hand on her wrist holds her back.

"Stay." His eyes are steady, not pleading or begging, not commanding, just steady. She holds still for a moment and he drops her hand. She takes a step away and she can hear him roll under the light covers on his bed. She makes it to the door before she stops.

Sam hears her run towards the bed before she is under the covers and curled around his back. He shifts slightly, not saying anything, as her tense hand slides from his shoulder over his arm to rest over the back of his hand. She can feel his bones and tendons shift as he splays his fingers. She relaxes her hand and her fingers fall into the perfect spaces between his.

Ainsley feels him sigh, as if accepting her attempt at saying she's sorry without words. He's shockingly still for a moment before he twists and pulls her across his body, enjoying the slide of her long legs over his hip. She yelps as he settles her in front of him. Ainsley stares at him. His eyes are closed, his brow smooth. He smells sleepy. She thinks that's a ridiculous thing to say, but it's true. He smells like clean linens, a warm summer breeze, and the rest is the concentration of how he always smells.

She smiles. This is where she has secretly always wanted to be. Pressed up against his wonderful body, in his bed, in the safe circle of his arms, able to enjoy him without guilt or the fear of getting caught staring.

Ainsley dreams about them that night. He has her thoroughly ravished on the kitchen island, her summer dress pushed up to her waist. He's between her legs, making her writhe as he does devilish things to her with his tongue before he takes her. She tugs on his hair feeling her climax rushing up on her hand he comes up panting, the fly of his pants hanging open and the head of his cock pressed against his stomach, aching.

She pulls him in for a kiss, her hand griping the back of his head and he moans into her mouth. She can taste herself on him as she gently bites his pouting lower lip. He groans, she feels the head of his cock brush her folds. He pauses to whisper filthy nothings in her ear and her hand crumples the pages of the cook book beneath her fist. He begins to enter her and...

...The dream is gone. She opens her eyes blearily and revels in the man she is draped over. He smells wonderful. She can feel his hardness pressed against her and she feels the wetness left behind from her dreams. She tries to will it away, but he shifts behind her, grinding into her and she gasps. She moves from under his arm to sit on his thighs below his impressive erection. She hovers over his beautiful body, her hair falling to tickle his skin as she presses a kiss over his heart.

She feels him stir beneath her. She presses hot, open mouthed kisses along his chest and feels the vibration of his groan. She smiles against his skin, feeling his muscles twitch in anticipation as she bites down on a soft spot just below his left collarbone. She kisses a path down his midline, interspersing her gentle ministrations with sharp nips. His hips flex as he searches for friction and she braces her hands against them, holding them down.

She looks up when he growls slightly. "Good morning Sam." She knows she's being coy, but it seems to be received well because he groans again and looks down at her.

"Oh god. Ainsley, this is one hell of a way to wake someone up." He's more tempting than ever; his hair mussed and sticking to the fine sheen of sweat on his brow both from the heat and from her teasing. She can tell he's been biting his lower lip because it's red and swollen. She slithers back up his body and kisses him. He kisses her back and the heat intensifies as she lets his tongue enter her mouth and his hands find the rucked up bottom of her camisole at her waist. His fingertips draw lazy patterns across the skin of her lower back. It's driving her crazy.

She pulls back, her voice is a husky whisper against his neck. "Let me finish what I started, hmmm?" kisses down his neck and he swallows, trying to find his voice.

She begins again, starting higher than before and works her way down his chest to his belly button. She pauses there, her breath fanning against his skin, watching him. His hands are twisted in the sheets, his head turned slightly to the side making the cords of his neck stand out. He's panting. She says his name quietly, his eyes snap open and she can see the ardor smoldering in the nearly eclipsed irises. She feels another shock of desire shoot through her and pool wetly in her core.

"You are gorgeous Sam." She eases his now tented sleeping pants off him as he arches his hips involuntarily.

"Women have told me that before..." He looks more than a little sheepish about admitting it.

She smiles slightly and his hips jerk as her reply fans against his cock. "They weren't wrong."

Ainsley looks up at him through her lashes, he's entranced, her warm, damp breath fanning over him. He watches breathlessly as she slowly bends and licks his head, swirling her tongue and carefully gathering the fluid that has begun to leak out. He moans and his hand buries into her hair. She licks Sam from root to tip before she takes only the head of his cock into her mouth and sucks.

"God...Ainsley!" He cries her name sharply as she takes him deeper into her mouth and swallows before retreating. She looks up at him and is captivated by the expression on his face. She hums in pleasure, relaxing and taking him deeper so that she can feel him nudged against the back of her throat. She hums again and his hips buck.

His hand tightens in her hair, and her name turns into a moan. "Stop."

She releases him from her mouth and takes in the sight of him as he sits up; his chest is heaving, his eyes hooded and wild with pleasure. Her breath goes shallow as he grips the back of her head and plunders her mouth. He groans into her mouth as he tastes himself on her, suddenly needing to feel her skin pressed against his. His free hand slides up the side of her camisole and she breaks the kiss.

She crosses her arms and lifts it from her body fluidly. His hands reverently slide from her waist to rest level with her breasts. She hears him whisper "...so beautiful..." then gasps as his thumbs brush the sensitive sides of her breasts and she arches in his grasp. He kisses her neck and her head rolls to the side to give him more access as he slowly works his way to her breasts, taking all the time in the world to draw nonsense patterns all across her skin. She draws out the syllables of his name when he takes a nipple in his mouth and gently bites the hard bud, his other hand toying with the neglected breast before he switches sides.

Intoxicated with his gentle manipulation of her body, she begins to rock against him slowly and he is reminded that she is still wearing her sleeping shorts. She wiggles against him in an enterprising way and they both gasp as his tip momentarily slides along her wet folds. Sam pulls away from her succulent breast and takes in her flushed face and the long, pale column of her neck as she throws her head back.

"Ainsley..." Her name is a reverent whisper on his lips. Her eyes open slightly and she gazes at him through her lashes. "Soon."

Sam is far beyond words as he gently coaxes her from his lap and tosses the rumpled bedding from the bed to lay her out across his smooth cobalt sheets. She watches him, nervousness blooming in her as he sweeps his gaze over her body.

"What is it?" Ainsley is not use to the kind of scrutiny.

Sam takes her hand and kisses it. She feels a shock go through her at the contact of his lips. "You are so beautiful, a pale, unattainable goddess spread across my sheets. What did I do to deserve you?"

Her blush is fetching. "Oh..."

He laughs quietly against the skin of her stomach. "It's the truth Ainsley..." He sits back to look at her for a moment, his lips returning to her mouth as his fingers curl around the waistband of her shorts. He pulls back slightly and before the question can leave his lips, she simply nods and arches her hips allowing him to slide them down her amazing legs.

She is unshaven, but sculpted, trimmed, and glistening with wetness. He carefully moves her legs apart, kissing the insides of her thighs and gently opening her folds to his eyes. He looks up to find her biting her lip and the worried expression in her eyes. He blows a gentle breath against the sensitive skin and she shivers.

"Perfect..." Is all he says before sinking a single finger into her wet heat, making her cry out. He strokes her as he moves back up her body, delighting in the sounds he is drawing from her. He reaches her lips and whispers endearments against them as she arches below his body.

"Please...God... Sam..." She is tightening around his fingers and he stills before she can fly over the edge.

He gently removes his fingers, licking them clean. "Not just yet..."

Ainsley can taste herself as he kisses her deeply and her hands tangle into his soft hair. He feels her body calm down somewhat and he gently begins to work her towards the edge. It takes far less time before she is writhing against him, her hands tight on his shoulders.

"Now..." The word is a drawn out moan. "Sam... Please." He can feel his painfully high state of arousal and withdraws his fingers for the last time. She moans at the loss of contact.

"Ainsley," He has remembered something through his haze. "Do we need protection?"

Her brows furrow gently and she stares at him for a moment before she understands what he's asking. "No. I'm on birth control and I was tested."

"Okay. I've been tested as well." He gasps as she takes him in her hand. "Ainsley, that's not..." She guides him to her opening and he growls as he feels the heat and wetness against him.

"Now, Sam, or I might have to-" She chokes on the end of the statement as he buries himself to the hilt. He stills, giving them both time to adjust. When she intentionally flutters her inner muscles around him he gasps and begins to move.

The pace begins slow and loving, giving him time to worship her body, but quickly becomes frantic as she grinds hard against him and he is forced deep into her slickness.

She moans softly with every sharp thrust and they gain intensity as she gets closer to the edge. He feels his orgasm rushing towards him as she keens his name and her walls grip him tighter.

"So..._gasp..._soclose..." He drives into her harder and hits a spot that makes her shout and flutter around him in completion, with his name on her lips and flashes of white in her vision. She meets his frenzied thrusts, riding through her aftershocks, until he comes with an expletive and a deep groan of her name.

He has the presence of mind after his incredible orgasm to roll off her and to the side, panting. The sound of their combined, harsh breath fills the room for a moment while they both come down from the incredible high. She sits up slowly, feeling dizzy, and moves to rest her head on his smooth chest.

"Good lord, Sam." She feels the rumble of his laugh in his chest.

"That good?" He's playing with a strand of her hair, she watches him, content.

"Let's just say it was well worth the wait." She's tracing absent patterns over his chest, waiting to hear his reply.

"Yes, it was; more than worth the wait." He captures her mouth in a kiss.

Her stomach growls and he breaks the kiss laughing. "That's my girl."

She tries to be offended but fails miserably, joining him in laughter. She wobbles slightly as she stands from the dark sheets of his bed. Sam is still sprawled across the sheets, watching as she bends to pick up one of his dress shirts and pulls it across her shoulders, tossing a saucy look over her shoulder. He's out of the bed in an instant, pulling on his previously discarded pajamas as he follows her into the kitchen and swooping her into his arms. She's laughing as he kisses her briefly and sets her gently on her feet.


End file.
